


Bury Me 'til I Confess

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ginny Weasley is a precious gem, Love Confessions, M/M, Room of Requirement, Room of Requirement Shenanigans, awkward boys being awkward, i can't believe that's a tag i love it, set vaguely during Dean and Ginny being deanandginny, sometimes things don't quite go as planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6575113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus Finnigan is about as subtle as a hurricane and Dean Thomas still somehow manages to miss a lot of things. They have an awkward conversation in the Room of Requirement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury Me 'til I Confess

See, the Room of Requirement’s a tricky thing – it gives you what you need the most at that moment.

Need, not want.

So, sure, Dean _wanted_ a place to be alone for a while, but the Room decided that that wasn’t what he _needed_ , apparently, because the room that had opened before him was crammed full of comfortable-looking furniture, a crackling fire, and a very grumpy-looking Seamus Finnigan sitting sprawled along the end of a squashy-looking loveseat.

“What the hell?” Dean mumbled, reaching up and scratching at his head. Seamus looked up and shrugged at him, one-shouldered, an unhappy tilt to his lips.

“Got me, mate,” he said, arm thrown across the back of the loveseat. “I was just lookin’ for a place to get away and then the Room wouldn’t let me out.”

Dean cleared his throat. This was awkward. It wasn’t often he fought with Seamus, but ever since he and Ginny became serious, Seamus had kind of… closed himself off. Stepped away, sort of. It was like he was trying on purpose to give Dean some space and something a little bit sad and guilty curled itself in the pit of Dean’s stomach.

When was the last time he and Seamus had spent any time together?

“Well, let’s just try and leave, then,” Dean said, turning back to the door.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

Dean reached out and put his hand flat on the wall where the door had been. “Where’s the—?”

“Door?” Seamus got to his feet with a grunt. “Isn’t there, is it?

Dean whirled on him. “If this is some kind of trick you’re playin’…”

“Oi, don’t try and turn this on me!” Seamus snapped. Color flooded his face, red flushing beneath his freckles and his fingers curled into fists. Seamus’s temper was still simmering beneath the surface, then. Dean frowned and Seamus released a breath, turning away and throwing himself back onto the loveseat.

There was a painful silence.

Finally, Dean sighed. “Can I sit there?” he asked, pointing at the other cushion. Seamus shrugged and Dean stepped forward until he was at the edge of the loveseat.

He dropped down faux-casually, but misjudged and ended up squashed against Seamus. He hastily readjusted, ending up pressed against the arm of the loveseat.

Seamus rolled his eyes and Dean scowled at the side of his head.

“What is it with you lately?” he demanded. Apparently, they were doing this now. Here, in the Room of Requirement.

“Nothing,” Seamus scowled. “Just the same as I always am.”

“You are _not_ ,” Dean insisted, folding his arms. He stared ahead of him, at the flat blank wall where the door was supposed to be. “It’s like you’ve decided we’re not friends anymore.”

“’Course we are,” Seamus scoffed, and stood up so suddenly that Dean looked around at him. Seamus stalked his way around the furniture towards the fireplace, picking up the poker and jabbing at it. A log tipped and sparks crackled as the flames leapt higher.

Dean stood too, but didn’t follow him. “Then why’re you suddenly ignoring me?”

Seamus was silent for a moment, still holding the fire poker. “Didn’t think you’d notice,” he muttered.

“You can’t be serious,” Dean said flatly. “Seamus, this morning you sat so far away from Ginny’n me you were practically sitting with the Hufflepuffs.”

The poker clattered to the ground – it appeared Seamus had dropped it. He bent to pick it up, shoving it back in the holder next to the fireplace.

“Yeah, well, not gonna interrupt you with your girlfriend, am I?”

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” Dean was incredulous. He’d never pegged Seamus for the jealous type. “You’re jealous?”

Seamus stood stiff next to the fire. The light cast dancing shadows on the walls around them.

“I can’t believe you!” Dean exploded. Something hurt, just behind his ribs, and he wasn’t sure what. It was a sick, almost twisted kind of feeling, like something he ate didn’t agree with him and was bubbling up into his heart, heating his face. “You can’t just be happy for me?”

“It’s not you,” Seamus snapped but Dean was on a roll.

“You can’t be happy for me now that I can’t spend every spare second with you, and now you’re going to stand there moping, like I’ve got to _choose_ between my best mate and my girlfriend? Fuck, Seamus, that’s a right shitty thing to make me do, and—”

“Well, that’s the problem, then, isn’t it?” Seamus shouted, and Dean fell silent, startled. Seamus was biting his lower lip, fists balled up at his sides, shoulders hunched. He looked like he expected Dean to come at him swinging, and Dean realized suddenly that he’d been shouting as well.

“You’re going to choose her.”

Dean blinked and Seamus jerked his head around, so he was staring at the wall rather than at Dean.

“Seamus…” he began, hesitantly, then paused. “Just… you know, just because I’ve got a girlfriend now doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out. You’re still my best friend.”

Seamus was silent for a long stretched second. “Well, maybe that’s not enough for me.”

Dean frowned, confused. The fire popped and spit, sparks sizzling holes in the carpet that were instantly repaired by the magic in the Room. “What—” Dean began, but Seamus cut him off.

“Forget it.”

“No, Seamus, what did you mean—”

“I said _forget_ it, Dean!”

Dean stepped forward but Seamus was already weaving back through the furniture, heading for the wall. He put a hand flat on the stones, pushing at a few, before he reared back and started beating on the wall with both fists.

“Why- won’t- this- bloody- room- let- us- out!?”

“Seamus,” Dean stepped over a footstool. “Cut it out, it’s not gonna help.”

Seamus punched the wall one more time for good measure before sighing, resting his forehead against the unyielding stones. His fists dropped to his sides and Dean stepped around an armchair.

“Your hands.”

“No big deal.”

“Looks like they hurt.”

“’s fine.”

“Get over here, stupid.”

Seamus turned around and Dean held out a hand. After a very long moment, Seamus put his hand in Dean’s. Dean examined Seamus’s hand, turning it over.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… I mean, could you ever—”

Dean lifted his head and examined Seamus, who appeared to be extremely interested in the flagstones beneath their feet.

“Could I ever what?”

Seamus lurched forward, then, awkwardly and suddenly, and Dean barely jumped before Seamus’s face was mashed against his.

It was… wet. And uncomfortable. Seamus had his eyes screwed shut, and he was gripping Dean’s hand so tightly it was starting to hurt, but Dean’s eyes were wide open and all he really had time to register was the fact that Seamus Finnigan was apparently kissing him before Seamus stumbled backwards, looking horrified.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

“Mate,” Dean said weakly, and that seemed to break the spell.

“Shit,” Seamus clapped a hand over his mouth, then dropped it just as quickly. “Fuck. I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I just…”

Everything was slowly starting to make sense and Dean felt like a gigantic fucking idiot.

“How long?” Dean asked, because suddenly that was the only question that mattered. Seamus hung his head, the fight going out of his shoulders.

“How long have I been stupid over you?” He snorted, self-deprecating. “Years.”

“Shit,” Dean mumbled and Seamus smirked.

“Yeah, tell me about it. You’re the one who went and got a girlfriend.”

“It’s not… Seamus, if I’d known, I’d…”

“What?” Seamus shook his head. “Don’t do that, Dean. You wouldn’t’ve done anythin’ different. I wouldn’ta wanted you to.”

Dean stared at his friend, feeling his chest ache. Something was happening here. Something important. But Dean had no idea what to do about it.

“Seamus…” he said weakly, but Seamus was looking up past him.

“Look,” he pointed and Dean glanced around. There was a small wooden door set into the stone wall, as innocent and innocuous as if it had always been there. “We can get out.”

He stepped around Dean and strode for the door. Dean reached for him, suddenly desperate, and caught his friend around the wrist. Seamus’s wrists were thin, and for a moment, they stood there, Dean’s fingers closed around Seamus’s wrist with the roaring of the crackling fire in the grate.

But Dean couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and after a moment, Seamus gently stepped away. Dean dropped his hands, and Seamus left the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

Dean stood alone in the room, head swirling, and after a moment, sank down onto the squashy loveseat made for two and wondered if he’d just royally fucked things up for good.

He raised a hand to his lips, touching them with the tips of his fingers. They tingled, warm with memories, and Dean felt his cheeks burn as he thought back through the kisses in his life, to the kisses he’d shared with Ginny – beautiful, hilarious, bright Ginny – not hours earlier, and realized he couldn’t get the taste of Seamus out of his mouth, couldn’t shake the feeling of his fingers curled in the front of Dean’s shirt.

Something heavy and painfully, painfully obvious clunked into place in the pit of Dean’s stomach.

“Shit,” he whispered, and the fire in the grate behind him winked and popped, flickering over the walls before, with a hiss, it went out completely.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make this unrequited, I really was, but I just couldn't do it damn it - I couldn't leave it without that flicker of hope.
> 
> Title is from the Fall Out Boy song "Uma Thurman"


End file.
